Frank H. Rogers—the right man for a job of atomic proportions
Early days of NTS saw nation’s first convergence of big science, big engineering, massive construction

Frank H. Rogers

It was a long drive from Los Alamos to Mercury. Heavy rains and flooding buffeted the West that January day in 1952, but Nevada was dry and mild.

Two road-weary men stepped out of a dusty 1951 Chevrolet sedan and stretched their legs. One used a magazine to brush dirt from his blue jeans. Arms akimbo, he surveyed his desolate new “home.”

When Frank H. Rogers arrived at Mercury camp at what is now known as the Nevada Test Site, he knew his work was cut out for him. It was the early days of the Cold War. The USSR had atomic weapons now, and the Korean War was far from over.

An expanded atomic weapons test site was crucial for national security, the Truman administration had resolved, and first steps had been taken to carve out such a place within 1,300 square miles of Nellis Air Force Base. Now the test site would shift into high gear.

It was the start of this nation’s largest and most ambitious weapons proving ground and big-science facility, but you would have never known it by looking at the humble plywood huts and mess hall. No fanfare, no formalities this day—just two men embarking on a job that had to be done.

As the man heading up administration for Reynolds Electrical and Engineering Co., Rogers’ job was to see that operations at America’s atomic bomb testing program got up and running again—without the delays, problems and cost overruns seen in previous years. REECO had just been awarded a contract by the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission for construction work, and Rogers was the on-site chief operating officer.

During the early years at the Nevada Test Site, atomic weapons were detonated atop towers like this one that soared hundreds of feet above ground. (Courtesy, U.S. Dept. of Energy)

Within the next three months, NTS grew from a few hundred workers to more than 1,800. Thanks in part to Rogers’ superb management and people skills, the site was ready on April 1 for the Able Test in Operation Tumbler-Snapper, a series of aboveground detonations.

Then the pace picked up even more. As with other bigger-than-life industrial wonders of national importance that buoyed the Silver State—such as Hoover Dam and Basic Magnesium Inc.—construction at the test site soon reached mammoth proportions under Rogers’ guidance. Before long, craftsmen and riggers, their backs glazed brown under Nevada’s triple-digit heat, built towers into the sky some 300 to 700 feet above the desert pavement. Below, they constructed a maze-like nether world of huge tunnels, bunkers and underground structures linked by coaxial cables, sophisticated data-gathering instruments and recording equipment.

Then, on “shot” days these towers crumpled like matchsticks as the most powerful man-made force on Earth unleashed its fury at this unprecedented intersection of big science, big engineering and massive construction.

And so more test shots came that year—Baker, Charlie, Dog, Easy, Fox, George and How. In later years, it was Operations Upshot-Knothole, Castle, Teapot and others.

Frightening, awe-inspiring and controversial, the Nevada Test Site marked a new era in mankind’s history.

By 1962 when Rogers retired, some 22,000 employees and vendors populated the site. In later years that number topped 40,000.

According to Harold Cunningham—the second road warrior on that dusty trip from Los Alamos and manager of the mechanical department of Brown & Olds, plumbing contractors at NTS—Rogers loved his work and enjoyed getting out in the field.

Military personnel pose for this photo at News Nob, the historic test-shot viewing area for news media at the test site. (Courtesy, U.S. Dept. of Energy)

“He had more than 2,000 leased vehicles under his command out there at one point, not to mention all the construction equipment and workers,” Cunningham says. “He was always out on the site driving around and talking on a two-way radio making sure things were running smoothly. He was respected and liked by everyone.”

Rogers was known as a man who could simplify the most complicated problem—strip it down to its fundamentals and come up with one of those why-didn’t-I-think-of-that solutions. During his 10 years as chief operating officer at NTS, his singleness of purpose and fierce loyalty to country and co-workers were legendary. A skilled listener, Rogers often quipped, “Nobody ever learned anything by talking.”

Born in Frankfurt, Ky., Sept. 6, 1914, Frank H. Rogers was the eighth child of Earl Rogers and Susan Cavanaugh Rogers. His grandfather, of English ancestry, had come to Frankfurt as a bridge engineer for one of the major railroads and decided to stay and raise his family. Rogers went to the University of Kentucky and graduated from Kentucky Wesleyan College, a small Methodist school, in 1936. There he met Lucille Savage, and the two were married in 1937.

Next he went to work as a manager in a Kentucky distillery and later joined the Ralph E. Mills Co., a construction firm building 100 miles of the Pan-American Highway in Central America. The family moved to Costa Rica in 1942 when Jim, their only child, was 4 years old.

In 1946 they moved to Los Alamos, N.M., and Rogers went to work for the Robert E. McKee Company, which owned Zia Co., a subsidiary that built and maintained the town of Los Alamos, home of the Manhattan Project and the nation’s first nuclear weapons lab. When Reynolds Electrical and Engineering Co., another McKee Co. subsidiary, became the prime contractor at the NTS in 1952 in a joint venture with its parent company, Zia Co. and Brown & Olds, Rogers went to work for REECO.

“My father’s greatest talent was his ability to simplify complicated situations. He had excellent judgment; he was very calm and studied. He was very thorough,” Jim Rogers says. “He really loved people. He saw them for what they really were. He understood their frailties and shortcomings. He understood how to develop their strengths. That was my dad.”

Military personnel pose for this photo at News Nob, the historic test-shot viewing area for news media at the test site. (Courtesy, U.S. Dept. of Energy)

Frank Rogers encouraged independence in his co-workers and his son. When Jim graduated from high school in 1956, his father said, “You’re going to be prepared to go to college. So I’m taking you to the test site, and I’m going to put you in one of the departments, and you’re not to come home during the summer. You’ll learn to wash your clothes and take care of your car and take care of yourself.”

From 1956 to 1962 Jim Rogers worked there each summer. And the senior Rogers put his son in jobs with new duties and challenges. He told him, “You’re never going to be able to work a man unless you’ve worked in his shoes.”

Rogers says his father had no temper. He was quiet and studied in dealings with people. Frank once brought a fellow into his office and chatted with him about what he had done wrong. He came back in about 10 minutes and he said, “You know, Frank, I just thought about what you said; I’ve never had a butt-chewing in my whole life that was that severe, and I didn’t even realize it was happening at the time!”

A practical joker and storyteller who could spin a tall tale or two, Rogers would tell his son, “Jim, I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.”

Frank Rogers stayed active after retirement and used his management skills to help his son. “He built my television stations in Yuma and Albuquerque for me. He had retired and moved to Oregon. I called him and said, ‘I’m just having an awful time building this station. I just can’t get these people together. Would you build it for me?’ So he came down to Yuma and the next thing I knew the building was finished.”

A community leader in Las Vegas, Jim Rogers was named one of the nation’s top 12 philanthropists by Time magazine. He is owner, chairman and CEO of Sunbelt Communications, which operates NBC and Fox affiliate television stations in nine western U.S. communities, including KVBC Channel 3 in Las Vegas and KRNV Channel 4 in Reno.

Jim Rogers says his own sense of community and philanthropy was strongly influenced by his father. The senior Rogers was head of the United Way in Las Vegas, one of the organizers of the Boys and Girls Club and president of the YMCA. He used to say, “You’ve got to pay your community rent. You’ve got to pay your community rent.”

Frank H. Rogers died March 30, 1994, at age 79.

When Jim Rogers speaks about his father, his tone is reverential. At times, he pauses as his stories churn up fond memories and deep emotions. “He was a proud man, but he wasn’t arrogant. Frank Rogers believed in Frank Rogers, but he didn’t believe that he could walk on water. He had great patience. I think everybody who knew him would say he had his faults, but he was a good man, an honest man. Just honest, period. And he cared about everybody.”

From the moment he stepped out of that ’51 Chevy, one thing was clear: Frank Rogers was the right man for a big job. And, a nation can be thankful he and the men and women of the Nevada Test Site were there.

— Ron Kalb